I looked around the city and saw that smoke and flames were everywhere.
My father yelled at us to follow him down the street with a huge crowd of people all moving in the direction of Golden Gate Park. (Within two days, my father had secured a tent for us in Golden Gate Park with thousands of other survivors / refugees.) the smoke, the cinders, the people crying as we all watched out city go up in flames -- it was terrifying. I will never forget the fear and agony on the faces of the people as we walked together to get away from the fires that were blazing all around us.
We realized we were all going to be refugees, but my mother kept saying, "We have our lives, we are alive, and so we are the lucky ones!" I didn't feel very lucky, as my school burned to the ground and several of my classmates (we were about to graduate from high school) were crushed in the falling buildings. An aunt was killed in the fire and two cousins were killed by falling buildings. I guess I was lucky.
The fire trucks were very slow to get to the burning buildings, partly because so many people had crowded...
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